


Fleur And Fire

by whovianmuse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-30
Updated: 2012-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:28:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whovianmuse/pseuds/whovianmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Rory rose to meet her, tucking a strand of flame-red hair behind her ear and delicately whispering, “Amy Pond, Goddess of the Sun.”</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Written for a prompt on Eleventy_Kink (LiveJournal)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fleur And Fire

            Amelia Pond was giggling uncontrollably. Tiny ginger curls bounced along her shoulders as she shook with laughter. She couldn’t help it. She was ticklish, and Rory’s fingers were freezing. Rory kneeled in front of her, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

            “You’re quite certain this is necessary?” he asked the Doctor, holding up paint-covered hands and looking thoroughly troubled. The Doctor rolled his eyes and strolled over to where Amy and Rory stood in the center of the vast ceremonial hall. He seemed perfectly at ease, even giddy. Rory watched him with a sour expression, suppressing the urge to thwack him every time his eyes roved over territory he was not entitled to. Instead, he tried to focus on what needed to be done. There was no use in making a fuss over it. He should be well used to other men ogling his wife. Still, the familiar pang of irritation and jealousy rose in his chest.

            “Rory, I’ve told you,” the Doctor started, standing uncomfortably close to the pair of them. “The people of Ilopaiva are of a very religious culture. This precious hall that you’re standing in was built well before the earth had even formed. This _ceremony_ is one of the greatest honors to attend, but to become a part of it, to be _chosen_ to represent their most revered Goddess…Amy, you are incredibly fortunate and I am in complete envy.”

            He smiled, clasping his hands together excitedly, and added, “Besides which, I’ve made a promise to them, and they get very nasty when you break promises.”

            “Alright, yes, fine, but why Amy? Why can’t you do it?” Rory asked.

            “Rory, do I look like I’d pass as an Ilopaivan Sun Goddess?” the Doctor demanded, smirking slightly. Rory grimaced and bit back a childish remark.

            “It’s fine, really, I don’t mind,” Amy chimed in, sensing another round of competition between her boys. “But could we get this over with? I’m bloody freezing.”

            “I’m sorry, Amy. Just a few more hours of this, and then we’ll leave, I promise. If I remember correctly, there’s the traditional representation of sunrise and sunset, sacrifices to the spirits of the seasons, the ceremonial dinner, and finally, the purity wash with rare, scented oils,” he finished, ticking off each part of the ceremony on his fingers.

            “Hang on, I’m not going to be sacrificed?” Amy asked.

            “No, no, no. Of course not. Do you really think I would let that happen to you? No. Amy, your place in this ceremony is of the utmost importance. You’ve been chosen to represent Fiyra, Goddess of the Sun, whom they worship above all others. Their sun is their source of power, their source of life, and this ceremony is their way of paying respect to her. It’s a beautiful tradition…which starts in about thirty minutes, so we’d better get a move on.”

            Amy smiled, blushing slightly under the thin layer of gold paint that Rory had carefully smoothed across her skin moments before.

            “I still don’t understand, though. Why did they choose me?” She asked.

            “If you haven’t noticed, red hair is an absent trait among the people of Ilopaiva. You’re something of a rarity to them, and as your hair is the same color as their sun, they adore you. I’ve studied the ancient diagrams for the proper application of the ceremonial patterns and colors, and their depictions of the Goddess Fiyra are shockingly similar to your appearance. Tell me, Pond, are you secretly an Ilopaivan Goddess and you haven’t told me?”

            Amy giggled, sending her hair into a flurry of fire across her shoulders. Rory cleared his throat in frustration, and the Doctor dropped his smile immediately.

            “And it’s entirely necessary for you to be here while Amy’s so…indecent?” Rory asked.

            “Obviously, you need me here to give proper instruction on specific colors, symbols and patterns. It’s a very demanding, tedious process. We may even need two—“

            “I can paint Amy on my own, thanks.”

            The Doctor merely shrugged and tapped his chin with a fingertip, circling Amy in awe, the light from the stained glass ceiling of the ceremonial hall shining down upon her, lighting up her gold-painted skin like one thousand tiny, glowing crystals.

            “Right, well, you’ve done the first layer well. Covered every inch. Now, if I’m reading this correctly, you’re to cover her face, shoulders, chest and torso in gold paint. This is representational of the sun’s light, warmth, and compassion.”

            Rory nodded, rising to meet Amy’s eyes, and dipped his fingers into the bowl of thick, gold paint. He worked slowly, carefully, spreading his hands along the contours of her neck and shoulders, dipping in between the crevices of her collarbones, the blades of her back, and the base of her throat. He ran two fingers along her cheekbones, smiling as he clumsily dripped some paint upon her lips. She pouted, laughing at his mistake, and smothered his nose with a droplet of gold paint in revenge. Rory smiled fondly, and continued to cover every inch of her face, caressing her eyelids and lips with delicate care.

            The Doctor’s fingers snaked in between strands of her hair, working to keep it away from the drying paint and weaving it in a very unprofessional manner atop her head, the ancient scroll clutched in his mouth. Rory’s hands fluttered over her breasts, fingers swirling around her nipples, covering her chest in a thick layer of paint. The heat of both of their hands on her skin sent a burst of shivers down the length of her spine. The Doctor moved away from her with a dull crinkle of papyrus, resuming his place behind her, and dictated additional instructions to Rory.

            “Across the rest of the body, the gold begins to blend with darker, deeper colors: scarlet, flame-brilliant reds and oranges and yellows, representing the passion, fury, pride and strength of the flames of the sun,” the Doctor said, his voice clear and vibrant. Amy closed her eyes, concentrating on the feel Rory’s hands moving against her, the Doctor’s deep, soothing voice calming her nerves.

            She felt Rory’s hands work along her torso, tracing his fingertips along the curves of her stomach, cascading her skin with vibrant reds, oranges and yellows, blending them across her body like a sunset. Amy sighed softly as Rory settled his fingers along her hipbones and squeezed, imprinting her skin with sparks of fire. His hands trickled across her abdomen, traveling further downward, rubbing paint onto her slender legs, finally reaching the root of her body with careful resignation. Amy’s eyes fluttered open as Rory’s hands left her skin.

            He simply stood there, smiling at her in awe, his eyes fixated on her brilliant, green eyes, awaiting the Doctor’s instructions. The Doctor shifted the scroll and read.

            “The final touch is completed with pure, white-gold paint. A delicate pattern of fleur and fire across the length of the body, replicating the intricate tattoo of the Goddess Fiyra’s skin. The fire represents the passionate, fierce nature of the sun, and the flowers and curving vines represent the cycle of life, growth, and rebirth, as well as fertility and the continuation of a prosperous generation. The pattern begins at the base of the throat, stemming downward across the breasts, the torso, and meets at the root of the body,” he finished, his voice nearly a whisper, watching as Rory worked his fingers carefully along the canvas of Amy’s skin.

            The Doctor continued to give instruction, lecturing the pair of them on the history of the planet and their customary practices, but Rory had stopped listening. He was much too focused on the feel of Amy’s skin, tracing patterns along her collarbones, weaving his best impression of fire and flowers into her skin, spiraling circles across her torso and along her abdomen, breathing the life and flame and passion of the culture into her skin. Rory reached Amy's thighs, hesitating for one torturous moment before a wicked smile spread across his lips, and he began gently caressing her entrance with his fingertips. Amy's breath caught in her throat at Rory's touch, but the Doctor noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Rory could hear him blathering on, issuing useless pieces of advice on the precise shape of the floral designs that he had altogether abandoned, nodding every so often at the Doctor’s instructions, tricking him blindly.

            Amy bit her lip, quivering and attempting to stifle a collection of moans that threatened to escape her lips as the pleasure built inside her. Amelia Pond, the embodiment of flame: fiery and passionate and strong in her own respect. Hair like fire. Skin like pale gold. Perfect for her role in this ceremony. To them, she was their sun, their power, their strength. She was their Amy. She belonged to the both of them. Her boys, forever dedicated to her existence.

            The Doctor’s voice disappeared into smoke, a mere muffled blur from behind her, until all Amy could feel was the deep vibration of his voice, radiating throughout her body, impossibly close and yet torturously far away. The sound of the Doctor’s voice, combined with the feel of Rory’s fingers against her skin, moving so intricately, so delicately, drove her sensations into a wildfire, and she abandoned all sense of secrecy, her satisfied moans echoing across the ceremonial hall. After a few moments, Rory rose to meet her, tucking a strand of flame-red hair behind her ear and delicately whispering, “Amy Pond, Goddess of the Sun.”


End file.
